


A Court of Light and Fire

by linalove966



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Batboys, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Smut, wingspan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-13 09:02:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 20,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28900848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linalove966/pseuds/linalove966
Summary: Azriel always considered himself more powerful than most: a shadowsinger with seven deadly siphons at his disposal and an equally deadly group of friends. But, everything he thought he knew about power was challenged the day he met his complete and total opposite. Where he was darkness and shadow, she was fire and light.Azriel can't tell whether it's his romantic destiny or the universe's version of a cruel joke that his mate is none other than the world's only lightbringer._____________________________________________"Azriel, I heard everything you said. You're my mate""Have you known all this time?" he whispered, not quite believing that she was here, that this conversation was finally happening."I've known my whole life." Alina felt her eyes burn with tears as she worked up the courage for her next words."There are some things you need to know."____________________________________________DISCLAIMER:All characters excluding my original characters belong to Sarah J. Maas.
Relationships: Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Character(s), Azriel (ACoTaR)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 133





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hi lovelies!! I have been a lover of fanfiction for years now and this is my first attempt at my own story so go easy on me lol. This story WILL have smut in it, however it will also be a very slow burn. If you as the reader are anything like me, I freaking L I V E for the smut and romance parts of fanfics and fantasy stories. 
> 
> The majority of the events in this story take place after ACOFAS, and will include a lot of the original characters from the OG series. There will be one or two instances where I change aspects of the ACOTAR canon/history simply because it fits better into my story. I will provide warnings when we get there and sorry if this upsets folks. This is my fic so I'll do what I want. Hehe
> 
> Now on to reading about our favorite bat boy and his wingspan<3

\----------------Approximately 500 years ago-----------------

POV: Azriel

The war had been long, ugly, and brutal. After seven years of fighting, of tirelessly strategizing and rallying forces and securing alliances, the destruction of Prythian had finally ended on the bloody battlefield not even 24 hours ago. Azriel and the rest of the Night Court's Inner Circle still had not had a chance to rest with the ongoing negotiations involving all of the High Lords. Only a day since the war ended, and already a treaty had been written to build a wall that would forever separate the fae and human realms of Prythian.

When finally the Treaty was signed and the negotiations were concluded, Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel made their way back to the bloodstained fields where so many of their soldiers and friends had lost their lives. Not a sound could be heard aside from the occasional caw of a crow as it circled overhead, no doubt in search of its next meal.

"Rhys this can wait until morning. You need rest. We all do," Cassian argued as they searched through the bodies for any signs of life or survivors and began to make arrangements for burials. So many bodies covered the ground that they had to snake by in jagged zigzags and watch where they stepped at all times, lest they trip on a limb or dropped sword.

"Anyone still alive out here won't make it until morning. A snowstorm is headed in as we speak."

Azriel could hear the exhaustion in his voice, see it in his haunted face. They had all drained themselves of every drop of magical strength in their bodies. The seven siphons Cassian and Azriel each wore were sitting empty and useless on their bodies. For hours they searched and searched, occasionally finding a soldier still breathing and calling for an equally exhausted healer to examine their condition until the sun began to sink low in the sky. Azriel was assisting a healer in treating a deep leg wound on a young boy no older than 17 when he saw movement in the corner of his eye. He had to squint to make out the figure of what appeared to be a little girl with odd looking white wings and bright red hair. In the limited light he could barely make out any facial features other than her piercing blue eyes.

 _She has to be what, 7? 8? The hell is a little girl doing here?_ He thought as he scanned the field for anyone the girl might have been with. He looked back to where the girl had been standing and was alarmed to find her gone – as if she had vanished into thin air or never existed at all.

"Hella, did you see that? The little girl over there?" he called to the healer still working on the soldier with the hurt leg.

"Huh? Little girl?" Hella looked around and saw nothing aside from Azriel standing there looking confused. "There's no one out here. You've probably been awake so long your mind is playing tricks on you. I can finish up here. Go rest." She turned back to her task healing the boy's leg, a concentrated scowl on her face.

"But are yo-"

"If you don't shut your trap and go lay down for a while I'll put you to sleep right where you stand and have Cassian carry you back."

Azriel gave a dejected "hmph" and checked one last time for the little girl before making his way back to the camp. _Maybe I am starting to see things._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I pulled an SJM and used the word "ribbon" to describe something that definitely isn't ribbon-like. Did anyone else pay attention to how often she used that word in her books, or just me? Also we get to meet our second fav bat boy in this chapter. Or third, depending on the mood or time of day or which book I've recently read.

\-----PRESENT DAY------------

_POV: Alina_

It was springtime in the Illyrian mountains, and as Alina watched the sunrises each morning from her small home tucked away in a small valley miles from the nearest village, Windhaven, she could feel the earth thawing around her. Small poppies and tulips started to bud through the snow, and frequently her peaceful quiet was interrupted by the sounds of snow drifts cascading down the nearby mountains or the steady drip of water as the icicles decorating her roof started to recede day by day.

Alina hated the winter and everything to do with it, and sometimes she wondered to herself how she ended up living alone in the Illyrian mountains, deep in the Night Court, of all places. The path that brought her here was a winding one marked with as many grand adventures as there were lonely, lost nights. Even still, with all her dislike of the dark and cold that came with living in a place such as this, she found a deeper peace here than she had ever known anywhere else. Here, no one bothered her. Here, no one tried to take advantage of her. Though she was alone, she was free.

The Illyrian males made their distaste of Alina and her independent lifestyle clear enough whenever she frequented Windhaven, but after so many years of not putting up with their bullshit standard for women, even they began to just leave her alone and look the other way. When you spend a lifetime getting funny looks from males and females alike, eventually they stop being something you worry about. Anywhere Alina went, she could never blend in even if she tried. If it wasn't the bright sapphire eyes and near waist-length auburn red hair, then it was certainly the massive feathered white wings that faded to an auburn brown at the bottom that made her stick out in the crowd. Before she settled in Illyria all those years ago, she did enough searching and looking to know that no one else in the Night Court or even Prythian had wings like hers. The people that dared ask her why her wings looked so different only got back a blank stare in response – not because she didn't want to answer, but because she simply didn't know how to. One of the earliest and only memories from her adolescence almost 500 years ago was the day she searched the battlegrounds of the war and found her parents' lifeless bodies lying together and already covered in a thin layer of frost. Since then she had been on her own in a strange land she later learned was Prythian, with no significant memories of how or when she got there or where she might have come from.

Alina prepared for her weekly trip into the nearby village by packing her herbs and freshly cut flowers into a basket and dressing herself in Illyrian leathers and a thick wool cloak that she had to carefully fasten around her wings. She checked to make sure the knives she always carried strapped to her hip were in place, and fidgeted with the bright red gem on her necklace. This time of year the thin springtime air was slowly warming but still frigid, and although her flight to the village was only a few miles, she would still often have frozen eyelashes by the time she landed. One perk of her larger and feathered wings, she'd found, was that she could fly much faster and farther than her Illyrian counterparts, and the chill of the air felt much less biting. Alina grabbed the money she needed for the food she intended to buy as well as the seeds for planting in her garden. If there was one thing in this cold, gods-forsaken place that brought Alina true contentment, it was her plants and her garden. In the summer, she'd plant all sorts of vegetables in the fields by her home and harvest them to sell at the village in the early autumn. Centuries ago when she spent some time in the Winter Court, she learned about greenhouses and how to care for all kinds of plants; what climate they needed, what kind of soil, which plants were poisonous and which plants were just for decoration. Now, she had a greenhouse of her own, and spent her time tending to the herbs and flowers that she sold so often to the market during her village trips.

Alina's flight to the village was its usual quiet and peaceful, and she got a good price on the sage and mint herbs she had brought to the market to sell. The little old lady at the market was often the only person from the village that ever spoke to Alina, and she found herself looking forward to the soft smiles and light conversation that the two of them always had about their passion for plants. Alina couldn't help but feel sadness whenever she saw the old lady's clipped wings, withered and ragged looking from the centuries of disuse. To not feel the rush of the cold air under her wings, to not ever be able to see the sun set over the clouds or witness the peaceful stillness of the night sky as it lit up with gorgeous ribbons of green lights... Alina couldn't imagine anything worse. Her village trips always reminded her of the brutality and infuriating misogyny that the Illyrians prided themselves on. With her good mood plummeting, she left the market and began her walk back through the village.

 _Why did I decide to live here again?_ She thought to herself as she closed the market door and turned to make her way back down the village path.

 _Because I'm the world's biggest idio-_ "Hrmph!" she exclaimed as she accidentally barreled right into a winged male in the middle of hanging a flier on the corkboard next to the market entrance.

 _Good gods running into him felt like hitting a wall of fucking stone._ Alina took in his hazel eyes, his jet black shoulder length hair, and his tan, muscular build. He seemed to be taking in her too, with a mixed look of confusion and awe on his face.

 _Must be the wings. Why are all men the same._ Alina's thoughts were interrupted by a smirk that finally crossed his face. "Like what you see?"

"Ugh." Alina sighed as she rolled her eyes and turned back toward the village path in the direction of her home.

"Wait!" He followed after her, ignoring the disdainful and judgmental looks from the village passersby. Alina turned toward him, preparing herself for having to pull out her knives if needed, but was surprised by his next words.

"We're trying to start a training class for the Illyrian women. Just basic fighting maneuvers. Self-defense moves. Weapons training, maybe even some flying stuff too. I see you carry those knives. Would you be interested in going?"

Alina looked for any hint of a joke in his face, but could find none. He was being sincere. He must have seen her surprise, because he handed her one of the fliers he was hanging up moments ago.

He continued on. "We're trying to recruit as many women as possible. It's just once a week to start. Me and one of my friends will be the instructors. I'm Cassian"

She was at a loss for words, and was vaguely aware that she was holding her mouth open like a dumbfounded fish out of water. Finally she got herself together and responded.

"Um, Alina. And yeah I'll think about it. Thanks"

The smile that erupted on his face was dazzling. "Great! First class is the day after tomorrow. I'll see you there!" She thought about calling after him that she hadn't actually committed to going, but he was already walking away, whistling an upbeat tune and getting ready to hang the next flier. With a sigh, she readjusted her basket, checked her knives and necklace one last time, and took to the skies for her flight back home.

_Well this will be interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second author's note... I'm writing these chapters and publishing as I go. This fic is brand new and is also my first, so if you have any comments, recommendations, or ConStRuCtIvE criticism I'm all ears!


	3. Chapter 3

_\---Two Days Later---_

_POV: Azriel_

Azriel and Cassian arrived in Windhaven on a sunny afternoon, the bite of the thin mountain air hitting them like a wall as they winnowed in to the outskirts of the camp. Earlier in the week, Cassian had all but demanded that Azriel help him train the new female recruits, and eventually Azriel had agreed only to get Cassian to shut the hell up. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to necessarily… He just had other much more important things to do as the High Lord’s spymaster. Even though the war had just been won and King Hybern was defeated, there were still tensions between the courts of Prythian and the humans, and his special shadowsinger and spying abilities were as needed now as they have ever been. Still, Azriel had to admit to himself that he was curious to meet this supposed warrior female with white wings.

“I’m telling you they were massive. With white feathers but reddish toward the bottom. I’ve never seen anything like it” Cassian had told him at dinner the night before. Even Rhys was interested when he overheard Cassian bragging that he had charmed her into agreeing to come to training.

“Cassian you’re not nearly as charming as you think you are,” Rhys told him before refocusing his attention back on the argument Feyre and Mor were having over who Amren liked more. Cassian only chuckled and resumed his rattling about the fighting techniques he wanted to teach first.

Azriel remembered where he was, making sure his face was devoid of emotion and he was making eye contact with the villagers as he and Cassian made their walk to the training grounds. Coming back to the camp where he spent his teenage years always made him feel uneasy; bittersweet memories always forced their way into his mind about the relentless, brutal training he received here alongside Cassian and Rhys. Almost 530 years ago, he was brought to Windhaven after being tortured by his brothers and left in a dark cell to rot, not able to train or fight or even fly, by his father and stepmother. He remembered the first day he stepped foot in Windhaven like it was yesterday: freshly formed, permanent scars on his hands, wings hanging gaunt and useless on his back. He remembered how much the light hurt his eyes, how odd it felt to be standing under actual sunshine and breathing fresh air. He remembered the rolling shame he felt at not being able to fly, to have to drag his wings on the ground behind him as he walked because he didn't even have the strength to lift and hold them properly. What Illyrian male can’t fly? He expected the camp lords to take one look at him and expel him for being weak, but instead they took him in and honed his flying and shadowsinging skills so spectacularly that he became one of the strongest and most powerful Illyrian warriors they’d ever seen. A true living weapon, siphons and all.

As they made their way to the training grounds, Azriel could feel the wandering eyes on him, on his siphons, on his hands, on the large branching scars that stretched all the way across both wings. If his wings were a dark canvas, the scars were like faded ink; they extended from one point on his wings in the fractal-like patterns that characterized a lightning strike. Many of the people he encountered from day to day gaped at him when they saw his wings, none moreso than the Illyrians. To his knowledge, no one had ever been struck by lightning out of the sky and lived to tell the tale. Finally, Azriel and Cassian stepped into the training ring and found a group of about 20 women quietly chatting. Some men stood to watch from outside the ring, no doubt concerned husbands or fathers. Cassian paid them zero mind as he began his introductions.

“Ladies, welcome to your first day of self defense and battle training. I’m Cassian and this is Azriel. We will be your instructors.” At the mention of his name, Azriel looked to the women and gave a quick and silent nod. Cassian began explaining how the training would work and which maneuvers they’d be learning first. Azriel looked over each of the women that had shown up and did not fail to notice a few of them blush when they met his gaze. He caught himself feeling slightly disappointed that the white winged mystery girl had not come.

Cassian announced for the girls to pair up, and immediately several hands shot into the air. He called on Vienna, the youngest girl in the group at just 16.

“Mr. Cassian can I be paired with Azriel? Please?” Immediately all the girls whose hands shot up started bickering.

“Aw Vi I was gonna ask that!”

“Well too bad I asked first!”

“No fair!”

“Jane, YOU were the one that didn’t even wanna come to this. I think-“

“ENOUGH. There are an even number of you so this time you can pair up amongst yourselves. I’m sure there will be chances for everyone to pair up with the dreamy shadowsinger.” Azriel heard Cassian mutter to himself something about being chopped liver and watched the girls start to practice their movements. Suddenly Azriel’s spies alerted him that someone was approaching the training ring, and they were coming in fast from the sky. Cassian saw him tense up a second before he heard the booming flap of wings getting closer.

“How many?” Cassian growled to Azriel.

“My spies say just one. But it sounds like multip-“

Before Azriel could even finish the sentence, Alina burst out from the cloud cover and seconds later landed in the training ring with a dramatic thud. She was wearing deep brown Illyrian leathers that hugged her curves a little too well, with two knives secured at her hip. Her red hair was pulled back into a braid that cascaded down her back. She took a moment to fix the hairs around her face from the flight over and took in the other girls already assembled. All eyes were on her as she folded her wings and nodded to Cassian.

“Sorry I’m late. What have I missed?” She asked as she fidgeted with her necklace. It was a good thing Azriel didn’t talk much to begin with, because he wouldn’t have been able to in this moment anyway. Her wings were breathtaking. SHE was breathtaking. _The bastard actually wasn’t exaggerating._

“Thanks for finally joining us. Alina, this is my friend and the other instructor, Azriel.” Alina turned to face towards where Cassian was gesturing and went completely still when they locked eyes. Azriel felt his stomach drop, and suddenly it felt as if someone had just knocked all the air out of his lungs. In the blink of an eye he felt a bond form and tug on his chest.

_Mate. Mate. Mate,_ his shadows whispered to him.

_Holy shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi!! So this chapter is an example of one of my minor canon/history edits - Azriel's scars on his wings from being struck by lightning. Don't hate me, it'll make sense later I swear. :)))))


	4. Chapter 4

_Gods,_ Alina thought to herself. _He looks like he’s seen a ghost._

She could feel her heart hammering in her chest, and with her heightened hearing she could hear Azriel’s sharp intake of breath as their eyes met. For the tiniest second he had pure shock on his face, but quickly any hint of surprise vanished completely. Alina suspected he might be the friend Cassian was referring to, and nearly didn’t come to the training session because of it. She had paced back and forth in her living room, debating what to do and kicking herself for being a coward, when she checked the time and realized she was already late. So many years it’s been since she was this close to him. She really took him in then – his glowing cobalt blue siphons, his tan skin, the muscles his long sleeved leathers poorly concealed. She felt sadness as she gazed upon the jagged scars that marred his wings and his hands. Alina’s eyes moved back up to his face, noting the dark brown hair tucked behind his ears. _Longer than he used to wear it._

At last, she met his intense stare. She had never gotten the chance to see his hazel eyes so up close before. The handful of times she’d seen Azriel, it was from afar, and she had taken serious precautions to make sure he didn’t detect her presence. The most recent was almost two years ago when she flew in to Velaris to visit her favorite bookshop and her favorite grumpy , one-legged shopkeep, Mr. Thomas. The first time she had ever entered the shop, she had been so excited to pet his orange tabby cat lounging by the door that she accidently knocked a vase over with one of her wings.

“Oy! That was a family heirloom!” He’d called to her as he wobbled over on his cane to pick up the broken pieces. Alina had felt so bad she’d offered to buy him a new one and stay for a while to help around the shop. He’d reluctantly agreed, and they set off on a project to clean out the back wall of book shelves and reorganize the books with his new inventory. It was quiet work at first, but soon they warmed up and began to chat about all sorts of things – how he lost his leg in the war against the humans, how she’d lost her parents and wandered all corners of Prythian, where he could find his favorite sunset views of Velaris, what her favorite kinds of books were. Minutes turned to hours, and when she left his shop that day, she had so many books she wasn’t quite sure how she’d carry them all for the flight home. From then on she visited that bookshop at least every couple of months just for the sake of enjoying his company. For nearly two hundred years, as long as she had been settled in the Illyrian mountains, she would visit him and tell him stories about the places she’d been and the things she learned. Occasionally she’d bring him books from the other courts she’d visited for his shop, and he’d always joke about her slowly paying off the vase she’d broken. She considered him the closest thing she had to family.

On that day two years ago, like so many other visits she’d stayed far longer than she intended to, and by the time she was ready to leave she was starving. She was making her way up the cobblestone streets, admiring the soft pink colors of the evening sky as the setting sun dipped below the horizon and making her way toward one of her favorite restaurants. The street lamps were just being lit and children were darting between the crowds of people as they tried to get in one last game of tag with the fading rays of light. One particular little boy with small wings, hair dark as night, and large blue eyes bumped right into her at full speed, sending her pile of books flying. He quickly made to bend down and help her gather them, but noticed her wings and stopped to stare in awe, mouth gaping and eyes wide as discs. “How do I get my wings to look like _that_?” He’d whispered at her. Sometimes Alina still thinks about the look of absolute horror on his face when she told him he’d only have wings like hers if he ate lots and lots of broccoli.

Just then, from a distance, she’d heard it. Her pointed ears picked up the sound of a group of people sitting on the street corner laughing, enjoying their dinner under the magical summertime sky. One laugh in particular caught her attention – it was so brief, so quiet, but so deep and full of joy, like one of those laughs you could hear and laugh along with even if you hadn’t actually heard the joke. She recognized a few of the people around the table, but felt her breath hitch in her throat when she realized the laugh had come from Azriel. In the few times she’d seen him over the years, she’d never seen him so relaxed, so carefree. Her thoughts were interrupted when the little boy ran past her, bound for the very same table of people she’d been looking at, screaming “Mom! Mom! I saw this girl with the coolest wings ever! Can mine be like hers?” Panic had kicked in, and by the time the boy had turned to point in her direction, she had already fled down an alleyway. She ran and ran until the riverfront shopping district was far behind her, and she wandered the city streets until the darkness could cloak her ascent into the sky. That night as she laid in bed she’d wondered if anyone else had ever been able to hide from the shadowsinger.

Alina remembered with a start that they were being watched and quickly looked back to Cassian to await his first instructions. Embarrassment flowed hot through her at being taken off-guard, and she prayed to the gods that Azriel didn’t notice the blush that she could feel now making its way across her freckled cheeks.

“Well, looks like everyone else is already paired up. Alina, you can work with Azriel for now. We’re starting with self defense basics. Hammer strikes, elbow strikes, kicks, blocking. He’ll go easy on you at first.”

You noticed Azriel’s eyes darting between you and Cassian. Cassian wasn’t even trying to hide his smirk at this point. _Bastard._

“Alright Alina, show us what you got.” Cassian called after her when both her and Azriel had taken up their positions in the center of the ring.

Azriel squared his shoulders and gave Alina a small nod; that was about all the warning she got before he attacked. He was a dark whirlwind of jabs and fists, and Alina clumsily blocked the first few jabs before he swept his leg under her and brought her down to the ground, hard. _THAT was going easy on me? That took like ten seconds. Yikes._

He offered her a hand up, but she slapped it away and huffed back to where she started. “Again,” Alina grumbled, not even bothering to wipe the dust and dirt off her clothes. This time she knew what to expect, which moves he’d use first. She wanted more than anything to wipe that satisfaction right off his face. Alina noticed their audience had grown, and now males and females alike crowded around the ring in an effort to see the white winged girl take on the shadowsinger. She was so distracted, she noticed it a second too late when Azriel closed in with a blow to her left shoulder. Searing pain clouded her vision, but she kept her feet under her as she parried his next move. His next few jabs happened so quickly she had no time to think or do any counterattacks other than keeping herself from being knocked to the ground again.

“Concentrate, Alina. Find a weakness and use it to your advantage,” Cassian called from the side of the ring where he stood. _Well I’m fucking trying…_

He made another serious of jabs that she blocked, but there – every so often, just for a second, he’d leave his left side unprotected. Alina waited for the next chance, blocking his every strike, and when his left side came open again she thrust all her power and strength into the same kick move he’d just shown her. Azriel slammed down to the ground, shock and anger radiating off his face. Quickly he rolled and sprung back onto his feet, but an instant later Alina was upon him, a storm of jabs that had him losing ground.

Across the ring, Cassian looked on with complete amazement. He’d never, _never_ , seen anyone bring down the shadowsinger before. Let alone do it using his own moves.

Azriel must have sensed his looming defeat, because swirls of shadow erupted from his fists, filling the space between them and blanketing his movements in darkness. Alina faintly heard Cassian call out to her again – something about standing her ground or whatever, but as her anger and fear of the dark started to rise within her, she could focus on nothing else but the shadows slowly swallowing her whole. She was in total darkness now, so black she couldn’t even see her hand in front of her face, let alone the attacks from Azriel. The normal nighttime darkness of the night court, with its deep blacks and blues and speckles of starlight and streaks of green color from the northern lights – she loved that, found peace and beauty in it. But this was something different entirely. This darkness felt thick like ink on her skin and pulsed with a silence that not even her remote mountain home could boast. This was the darkness that fed nightmares.

Alina felt a jab to her stomach so hard it knocked the wind out of her, and another to her jaw that had her careening backward and tripping over her own feet. The anger that had slowly risen up was boiling and thrashing at the surface now as every instinct in her body screamed at her _danger, danger, danger._

She couldn’t take it anymore. “ENOUGH!” Alina screamed. A column of light erupted out of her then, pouring out in every direction like a boiling pot that had been overfilled. She couldn’t have stopped it if she tried. She watched the light sear through the shadows, literally dissolving them and fading from a mist into nothingness. The light touched everything as it arced away from her, painting everything from the stunned faces in the crowd to the buildings and distant tree line in a blinding white. Finally, the light receded and an eerie silence descended over the camp.

Azriel’s wide eyes were trained on her now. He didn’t dare move a muscle. Alina tried but failed to bring her breathing under control, but her head spun as she realized she had so publicly and spectacularly revealed one of her most protected secrets.

“You’re a lightbringer.” Not a question, but a realization from the very stunned shadowsinger. His face was full of wonder now, and he was looking at her in a way that made her feel very, very naked and exposed.

“Thanks for the lesson but I’m done here,” Alina mumbled quickly in Cassian’s direction. Before he had a chance to respond, she unfolded her wings and leapt into flight. She didn’t have to look back to know the spymaster’s eyes still followed her every move.


	5. Chapter 5

_POV: Azriel_

Azriel stood like a statue as he watched Alina soar farther and farther away, soon becoming a small speck in the blue late afternoon sky. Part of him wanted to go after her, but to say what? Apologize? Recite one of Cassian’s horrible pickup lines? He had felt the tug of the bond so profoundly in his chest, but had she felt the same? If she had, she gave no indication. In fact, Azriel thought almost bitterly, she hadn’t seemed very surprised at all. He hadn’t meant to use his shadows against her, but the shock he felt when the bond tugged on him and then again when she grounded him while sparring was not something he had been prepared for. He was known as a lethal, hardened, unreadable warrior for a reason. The whole experience, the whole feeling of _her_ , her power, the way her stare bored into him, it had rattled him. And yet, there was also a sense of familiarity when her light met his shadows, as if the feel of them hadn’t been wholly foreign. The whole time she was around him, his shadows had been going crazy, chanting that she was his mate. It was like they wanted to be closer to her, and it took much more focus than he was willing to admit to keep them from breaking free. That is, until they _did_ break free. Azriel chalked it up to the fact that she was the only person he’d ever met with powers similar to his, even though they were in essence his exact opposite. 

It was long after she had disappeared into the clouds when the silence in the camp was broken. Cassian was the first to approach the shadowsinger, announcing to the other women as he did that the class was over for the day and yelling to the onlookers that the show was over. Cassian placed a hand on Azriel’s shoulder and followed his gaze back to where she had been in the sky.

“Care to explain what the hell just happened?”

“She’s my mate.” Azriel didn’t need to look at Cassian to see his surprise; he could feel it.

“I see. So using your shadows against her in combat was your idea of… wooing her?” Cassian thought of how they stared at each other when they were introduced. Maybe it was just him, but he felt like he could cut the sexual tension in the air with a damn knife.

Azriel turned to Cassian, brow arched and a small smirk forming. “I don’t woo.”

Cassian laughed, his seven red siphons glowing. “Clearly. Her wings – “

“I know.”

Azriel thought again about her wings, the long white feathers that stretched out in a serrated pattern at the edges. He’d noticed before she’d sent his ass to the ground that her wings also had dense layer of down feathers that faded from white to rich auburn brown towards the bottom. Azriel had been wondering how she’d flown in so close to the training ring without his shadows detecting her or his heightened hearing picking her wingbeats up, but maybe those feathers are the answer. He found himself wanting very badly to see her again and to know what those feathers feel like on his skin.

“Well I’m outraged. Her wingspan looks twice as big as mine.” Azriel couldn’t help but chuckle at that. No wonder Feyre always called them Illyrian babies. But perhaps Cassian was right; compared to their Illyrian wings, hers were absolutely massive. As he and Cassian began their walk back through the camp, her piercing blue eyes flashed in his memory over and over again. This time, Azriel barely even noticed the glares and curious looks from the soldiers and villagers as they walked.

“We should tell Rhys.”

Cassian snorted. “Right, let’s tell him that your mate and the only lightbringer in all of Prythian has been sitting right under all our noses this whole time. I’ll let you handle that while Feyre and I start planning the wedding.”

“Hmm.” Azriel’s mind was reeling with so many questions as he and Cassian winnowed back to Velaris. How long had she been in the Night Court? And how had his shadows not detected her? He had spies all over, not only in the Night Court but also along the coasts, court borders, and even in the other courts in Prythian. Usually if anyone crossed into the Night Court, he was the first to know about it. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration and pushed the thoughts from his mind as he and Cassian flew from where they’d winnowed in the middle of the sky onto one of the balconies at the House of Wind. Rhys and Mor were planted in chairs across from each other at the long balcony table and were seemingly finishing up a long discussion about the tensions between the lords in the Court of Nightmares. They paused when the Illyrian warriors touched down, Cassian immediately heading inside in search for a drink. Azriel sunk down into one of the chairs at the table across from them, thankful for the wing-friendly design.

“Well how did the first class go?” Rhys asked, looking expectantly at Azriel.

Azriel opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Cassian’s holler from inside the house.

“Ooooh boy does Azriel have a story for you. Who wants beer? Mor, wine?” She called out a ‘yes’ to him and looked back to Azriel, her interest officially piqued.

Long seconds passed as Azriel prepared for the questions sure to come next.

“I found my mate.” Rhys’s eyes grew to the size of saucers, and the color drained from Mor’s face. They gave each other a tentative look and then both broke out into radiant smiles.

“Oh my gods! What does she look like? When can we meet her? Just wait until I tell Feyre.”

Rhys’ face went blank and he stared off into the void for a few seconds. “Done! She’s finishing up a class at the art studio and then she’ll head up. She – “ Rhys went silent again, his black hair glinting in the evening light as he looked down toward the city. He rolled his eyes and laughed to himself, no doubt having some kind of mind telepathy magic bond conversation that Azriel knew he and Feyre and other lovesick mated couples always have.

“She wants to hear all about her when she gets back. And she wants her to come over for dinner.”

“Wait til you hear the rest. Tell them Az,” Cassian said as he settled into the chair next to him and took a long sip of his beer.

“Well for starters, it’s the female he saw a couple days ago with the huge feathered wings. Definitely a bigger wingspan than Cassian.” He added that last jab as revenge for being put on the spot.

“And,” he said, interrupting their murmurs and Cassian’s pouting, “she’s a lightbringer.”

“What?” Mor quietly gasped, and Rhys looked at him with the same confusion and surprise they’d both had earlier. Azriel nodded.

“You should have seen it,” Cassian chimed in. “They were fighting, and then he knocked her to the ground, and then she knocked him to the ground, and then Azriel used his shadows on her so you couldn’t see anything, but all you could hear was a whoosh and a crunch and then she yelled and light just exploded everywhere. Ate his shadows right up and everything.” Mor was giggling at Cassian’s rambling and animated hand gestures. Rhys laughed along with her, but had a furrow in his brow that suggested he was trying to piece together who she is, what she is.

“What exactly can her powers do? And do we know anything about her? She can’t be from the Night Court.” Rhys asked, essentially echoing all the questions that had been bouncing around in Azriel’s head since the moment he laid eyes on her.

“We don’t know. I’m not even sure she’ll come to the class next week after how today went. She took off shortly after the uh, whooshing and crunching.”

“Yeah, and exploding,” Cassian added. Azriel just shook his head. He felt a pang of guilt and shame about losing control and unleashing his shadows. But, if he hadn’t, they also probably wouldn’t know she was a lightbringer.

Rhys seemed to think on all of this for a minute. “Alright. Find out more about her. And get her to come to training next week. I’d like to come along and meet her.” Again Azriel nodded, like a soldier taking orders from his commander. “And I mean it about the dinner. Feyre will have all of our heads if she has to wait too long.”

Azriel rose from the table and headed to the balcony railing, feeling desperately like he wanted to melt into shadows and process everything that had just happened. He was about to leap off the balcony and do just that, wanting to avoid any more embarrassing conversations, when Mor stopped him.

“What’s her name? Was she pretty?”

Azriel thought of her light skin, her face dotted with constellations of freckles, her blue eyes and her vibrant red hair. He thought of her tall figure, clothed in the deep brown Illyrian leathers and adorned with sleek knives strung on each hip. He thought of the small red necklace that sat delicately at her collar, wishing he could brush his fingers against it.

“Her name is Alina,” Azriel finally answered. He turned again to leave but hesitated, his wings stretched out at his back and ready to catch the chill wind. “And she’s beautiful.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note:  
> Fun fact that no one asked for, red hair + blue eyes is the rarest eye/hair combo in the world (I’m pretty sure). It is also *my* eye/hair combo. Hence my inspo for our redheaded main character. The character in this is what I wish I looked like, lol. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!!  
> -Lina


	6. Chapter 6

POV:Alina

Not much rolled around in Alina’s head on the short flight back to her cottage other than a very long, very repetitive string of curse words. The crippling darkness swallowing her whole, the look he gave her, the gasps from the crowd… The events kept repeating in her mind over and over, making her wish she could crawl inside herself and forget the day ever happened. In all the years she’s lived in the Night Court, in Prythian even, she had never come close to slipping up and revealing her lightbringing powers. She had never been so _weak_. It had always been one of her most preciously guarded secrets – this ability that was so unique and powerful, but could also be so devastatingly deadly if it was found out and taken advantage of. The secrecy was her safety net, her only chance at a somewhat normal life, but she’d burned that away. Her only comfort was that she knew Azriel hadn’t followed her out of Windhaven and found where she lived. Yet.

For the rest of that day and several days afterward, fear and paranoia gripped her. Would the Illyrians come after her? Would Cassian or Azriel? Perhaps the smart thing to do is to stay here, in the comfort and seclusion of her home, hiding from the Illyrians until the talk and gossip could settle down. Perhaps she should consider leaving the Illyrian mountains or the Night Court entirely. The thought of leaving behind the glowing starry nights that she’d so thoroughly come to love saddened her. The thought of removing herself from the only people remotely like her, with the ability to fly and taste the skies, as cold and bitter and backwards as they are, killed her. _No_ , she decided one night as she lay on the roof of her house watching the pale green streaks of northern lights dance across the starlit sky. This was her home. She would not hide, and she would not leave.

Alina climbed down from the roof and made her way into her bed, thanking the cauldron that she had one more day to mentally prepare for attending the next training session. She laid there tossing and turning for what felt like hours when she finally fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

\-------------

_She was back on that battlefield, striped with blood and gore and painted with bodies of the fallen soldiers. The lighting was low, and the world seemed to be covered in an eerie blue haze that sent the hairs on her arm standing up straight. She was cold – so, so cold, the kind of cold you felt in your bones, the kind of cold that left you tired and your mind muddled. She was scared, and she didn’t know what or who she was looking for, but she knew she didn’t have much time._

_Frantically she searched, trying not to look too long at the pale, frost bitten faces of the warriors she walked by. If you looked closely enough, you could still see the emotions they wore when they died; some showed sadness, terror, desperation, and even some looked serene and peaceful, as if in their final moments they knew their death was coming to claim them at last, and they were ready. As she searched, the thought dawned on Alina that each of these soldiers had a life like hers. Each of them fought for something they had believed in with every part of their being, something they were willing to give their lives for. She wondered what kind of family they had left behind, waiting for them to come home._

_She moved on, grazing her eyes over the battlefield, when one body in particular caught her glance. There, something inside her seemed to say. She felt pulled towards whoever this person was. She creeped closer to him as a gentle snow began to fall, but stopped short when she saw the – no, it can’t be. While his clothes were still fully intact, his hands and his wings were covered in fresh burns. In places, the flesh of his wings had been singed off entirely. It was one of the most horrible, grotesque things she’d ever seen, made even more so when she looked upon his face and realized that the soldier laying there was Azriel._

_She wanted so badly to look away, but she couldn’t – she couldn’t rip her eyes away from his face no matter how hard she tried. Tears stung her cheeks, and her breath formed small little puffs in the freezing air as she struggled to turn away. She heard a sizzling noise, and finally was able to look down to where her hands hung at her sides. Her palms were glowing red, and in each she held a glowing ball of bright red, crackling flame._

_“You did this,” a female voice from behind her called out. She didn’t dare turn around._

_“You’re a monster,” another voice said, this one masculine. If they had made a sound as they approached her, Alina didn’t hear it. Slowly she turned to face them, crumpling to the ground in horror in disbelief as she looked into the bloodied faces of her parents. Like the other bodies on the battlefield, their skin was unnaturally pale, their lips blue, and they had various gashes on their bodies that had long since stopped leaking blood. Alina knew just by looking at them that even though they were standing before her and speaking, her parents were dead._

_“You did this,” her mother repeated. There was no puff of breath in the air as she spoke._

_“No,” she sobbed as she turned back to Azriel and then to the ground beneath her. To her horror, the flames in her hands began to grow, travelling up her arms and down the tips of her wings. She tried to tamp them out on the snowy ground, but the flames hungrily consumed everything she touched. She tried to scream, but it was as if the fire was taking all the oxygen from her lungs._

Wake up _, a voice seemed to distantly call to her from a distance._ Someone’s here.

\-----------------

Alina jerked up out of bed, gasping for air and heart thundering. Alina looked down to see she was completely naked, with no trace of the night shirt she’d been wearing or the blanket she’d been using other than a few small piles of ashes. During her nightmare she must have singed them off her body completely. From time to time she would have terrible nightmares – sometimes they were her falling from the sky, unable to use her wings, sometimes she was back in the sunlit tower where she became a lightbringer, and most of the time she had accidentally started a fire, and no matter how fast she tried to run into the flames to save the little blue eyed girl, she couldn’t seem to go anywhere. Unlike her lightbringing abilities, she had been born with the power of summoning and controlling flames. Once in her lifetime, many centuries ago, she had learned to control her flames, to harness them into a weapon of pure destruction. Occasionally her mind would drift and she’d think of the atrocious acts she’d been forced to commit, the people she’d had no choice but to hurt. She’d never truly forgiven herself for it, and deep down she knew she never would. But, time has a way of healing even the wounds we can’t see, the ones that we bear on our hearts forever. She had made a promise to herself that she’d never use her powers to hurt others like that again, and for hundreds of years she has kept that. Now, she only uses them for little things, harmless things, and never ever around others.

Alina got up from the bed and groaned at the massive body-sized crater that she’d singed into her mattress _. I’ll have to skip my trips to Mr. Thomas’ bookshop for months to afford a new one_ , she thought glumly. The worst part of having huge wings was that she had to have a really, really big bed. She was pulled from her thoughts by another tug in her chest. She remembered the quiet voice from her nightmare that had helped pull her back to consciousness, and ran to her closet to throw on another nightshirt. She tied on her necklace and grabbed the knife by her bed before she ran towards the front of her house. She froze in her dark entry way, listening and waiting for any signs of the intruder and actively trying to get her pounding heart under control. She thought of how silly and pathetic she must look, standing barefoot in nothing but a long shirt with her hair in a mess from sleeping.

Alina crept to the door in the dark, unsheathing her knife and preparing for an attack when she realized the feeling in her chest was a familiar one.

“Gods damn it,” she muttered as she threw down the knife and flung her front door open.

“Azriel! I can feel your fucking shadows surrounding my house.”

A near silent flap of wings and a quiet thud later, and Azriel was standing on her front porch, lit only by the moon. He wore a new set of leathers similar to the ones she’d seen him wear at training, but this time with no siphons in sight.

“You can sense them? Without seeing them?” His brows raised for a split second in surprise.

“Uhh.” _Shit._ “Yeah. I thought someone was breaking in or something.” Alina felt stupid for revealing that little piece of information.

Azriel seemed to think on this for a moment. Alina watched as he looked around, taking in the details of her house, and then his eyes landed back on her. Slowly his gaze lingered down her body and back up again, stripping her bare and reminding her that she was, in fact, very close to being naked. She felt the blush creep up her cheeks as she looked away from him to something else, anything else.

“Can I come in?” Azriel asked. Alina couldn’t remember the last time she had a guest in her house, let alone an incredibly attractive male one. Still embarrassed from her clothes and his pinning stare, she nodded and turned to lead him inside.

“Good gods, it’s hot in here.”

_Shit._

Azriel looked around, scanning the living and dining area. He began to take off his leather long sleeve shirt, revealing a white undershirt that left absolutely none of his toned muscles to the imagination. She had to physically fight the urge to stare. Alina went to the nearest window and opened it, letting in a cool draft.

“You don’t have a fireplace.” Not a question. _I am in deep, deep shit._

“How – “

“Would you like tea?” Alina blurted, quickly walking into the kitchen and hoping he’d let her change the subject.

“Sure.”

Alina tried not to think about the fact that he watched every move she made as she poured them each a cup of the brew she’d made before she went to bed and walked back to where he was leaning against the wall in her living room.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here? Why you were spying on my house?”

Azriel took a long sip of his tea, watching her the whole time. Clearly he was stalling. _Cocky bastard._

“You’re the only lightbringer we’ve ever known of in Prythian, and you’ve apparently been living right under our noses. I wanted to find out more about you.”

“So ask me what I like to do for fun at the next training session. Not stalk my house in the middle of the night.”

Azriel chuckled. “Fine. But I wasn’t sure if you’d even come to the next session.”

Though it was a statement, she could tell it had been meant as a question. One that she did not want to answer.

“Why, you miss me already? Wanna cheat and attack me with your shadows again?” She expected some kind of sly response or witty retort at that, but none came. Instead Azriel’s brows furrowed, and he played with his cup like he was debating what to say.

“Actually, I wanted to apologize for that. I don’t know why I did that. I just… I lost control. I reacted.” That had definitely not been what Alina had expected to hear. She thought of the way she had done the same; when she used her light, she had forgotten everyone and everything in the moment and just reacted.

Azriel ran a hand through his hair and continued.

“And I wanted to ask that you give the training one more shot. After you left, the other women were amazed. They wouldn’t stop talking about you. It would be good for them if you came.” Alina watched his tan cheeks turn the softest tint of pink and felt some satisfaction that now he was the one feeling nervous.

“So you want me to come back to training. For… the women.” Alina added in the pause on purpose, to make sure he knew that she could see clear as day that it wasn’t really about the women at all.

“Yes. And Cassian. He won’t shut up either. Apparently he wants to race you.”

“Oh? And would he shut up if I let him win?” Alina walked back into the kitchen with her empty cup, suddenly aware of how the conversation had shifted.

“Definitely not.” Azriel put his cup down and started to slowly walk towards where Alina was standing. Oh, things have definitely shifted. He approached slowly, and in the dim candlelight of her kitchen she could see his gaze once again travelling over her. As he got closer, she started to back up, her mind turning to jelly.

“Where are you from?” Azriel asked in a deep rumble that sounded barely above a whisper. He was close now, his face an unreadable mask but his deep brown eyes locked on her.

“It’s a long story. Not from Prythian. I remember, um, bits and pieces of things. But I don’t know for sure…” she trailed off as he backed her into the counter, getting closer step by step until his face hovered mere inches from hers. He braced his arms on the counter on each side of her hips, barely missing the edges of her wings. Her core had turned molten and she felt like she could barely breathe.

“I didn’t think you were from here. I’ve never met a woman like you before.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise baby chapter only 24 hours after my last one!! I was too excited to write the smut. This short chapter is essentially *only* smut. Enjoy :)))))
> 
> Generally I will try to update with a new chapter once a week, probs on the weekends.
> 
> P.S. I solemnly swear to never use the words "velvet wrapped steel"

POV: Alina

He backed her into the counter, getting closer step by step until his face hovered mere inches from hers. He braced his arms on the counter on each side of her hips, barely missing the edges of her wings. Her core had turned molten and she felt like she could barely breathe.

“I didn’t think you were from here. I’ve never met a woman like you before.”

She didn’t dare move a muscle as small tendrils of shadow poured out from his fingertips and caressed her. This time was different than before – not the inky blackness that had suffocated her and fed her terror, but instead comforting, warm. Slowly they coiled in the air around her, a delicate whisper on her skin like phantom fingers. Tentatively they receded away, as if they had wanted to explore her but not overwhelm her. As if they had been seeking permission. Azriel lowered his head until she felt the ghost of his lips on the soft curve of her neck.

“Do you want me to stop?” He rumbled, the feel of his breath against her skin sending a shiver down her spine. She should tell him to stop, damn it; her mind and her instincts were screaming at her to tell him to stop and get out of her house. But as his lips parted and his tongue grazed her skin, the full weight of how much she wanted him to keep going hit her. She wanted this. She wanted _him_. He was an endless night sky, and she was completely lost in it. She pulled away enough to look into the hazel eyes that had haunted her memories for so long.

“No,” she breathed. For just an instant he stood there unmoving, even his shadows seeming to halt midair around him. The next, his lips were crashing on hers. The kiss was hungry and hurried; his teeth grazed her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth to him further. A deep, satisfied growl sounded from him as his tongue danced against hers. Her knees wobbled, and she mentally thanked the gods she was braced against the counter. In her five centuries of existence, she had kissed only a handful of males and gone further with even less of them, but none had ever felt like this. There had been a handful of years a long, long time ago, when her guilt and grief and loneliness had gotten the best of her, and she’d found herself turning to drinks and the attention of other males to get her mind off of it. It was not a time of her life that she was proud of, but still she forced herself to remember the dark place she had been in if only to remind herself of the strength she’d had in pulling herself out.

Everywhere he touched her was fire, was a shot of lightening straight to her core. None of it was enough. The way he tasted, the way he smelled, the way his hair felt as she wrapped her arm around his neck and ran her fingers through it… It was intoxicating. A broad hand wrapped around her bare thigh as he ground his hips against hers. She couldn’t help the gasp that slipped from her as he hoisted her up onto the counter and wrapped her legs around him. Her wings sent the cups and bowls that had been sitting there tumbling to the ground, but neither one of them paid any attention. Azriel kissed her so deeply, so thoroughly, that Alina realized she’d been forgetting to breathe. She ripped her mouth away for air but kept her hands planted in his hair as he trailed kisses down her neck and over her collarbone. His hands roamed up, up, up, until he was gripping the soft underside of her breasts over her nightshirt.

“Oh,” Alina gasped as he ran his thumbs over her hardened nipples. He ground his hips into her again, and she arched her back as she felt his hardened erection against her. His hand travelled down her side, so slowly that it hurt, until he reached the bunched up edge of her nightshirt. Again he paused and looked up at her, brows raised in a silent request for permission. She was desperate for the release and the friction, but more than anything she was desperate for _him_. For so much of her life, she had known who he was but had chosen to respectfully stay away, wanting him to find a life and happiness that wasn’t affected by her. Maybe a part of her had always believed he was better off without her. Regardless, he had found her now, and she would take whatever he gave her. She nodded, knowing that they were crossing a line that could not be taken back.

His thumb dipped below her shirt and slowly – too slowly - slipped between her folds.

“Fuck,” Azriel groaned as he continued to run his thumb up and down, each time coming back to slowly circle her clit. Every touch was electric.

“You’re so wet.” He dipped his thumb inside her, pulsing to the same rhythm of his hips, and pulled it out again with a soft pop. To her horror and utter mortification, he brought his thumb to his mouth and sucked. For just a moment, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and sounded a moan so deep and sensual that it unhinged her. Alina thought she could have come right then and there just by the sight of it. With his eyes locked on hers, he brought his thumb back down to her sensitive nub and began working it in tight circles. She grabbed his shirt to pull him closer, but with his other hand he swatted hers away and pinned it against the counter.

“No,” he growled. “I want to watch you.”

_Gods._

He continued stroking her clit, steadily rising in speed. His piercing gaze cleaved her open, and she arched her back again, knowing he was drinking in her every move. The pressure was building now, and she had to brace both hands against the counter to keep herself from grabbing on to him. Her breathing became ragged. Further and further she climbed, and when she watched him slowly insert a finger into her while still holding unbreakable eye contact, she shattered completely. In her climax she moaned his name, and he said hers back like a prayer on his lips. He gave her the time she needed to come back down, folding her shirt back in place and holding her legs around his hips until she was ready to stand. Wordlessly, he helped her down off the counter.

“Alina –“ He started but paused mid-sentence, taken back by the sight in front of him. There on the wooden counter surface where she had been just moments before were black hand-shaped burns that still sizzled like the embers of a fire. Smoke rolled off them in small coils that dissolved into the air.

The suffocating heat. The lack of fireplace. And now, the counter. They stood in silence, Azriel looking between the burnt surface and her hands, no doubt piecing together that she has yet another unique power quite literally at her fingertips.

“Creating light isn’t the only magical ability you have, is it?” Alina turned away, angry at herself and her lack of self-control. She could level entire cities, entire army with her fire. She could shape her flames into dazzling flowers or birds or butterflies made of heat and light and watch them float away on the wind until they turned to ash. She could light a whole forest on fire, watch as the flames erupt into the sky, and then silence them into nothing without so much as a fallen leaf or burnt strip of bark. But at Azriel’s touch she’d become so unraveled that she couldn’t even stop herself from burning the furniture she sat on?

“No,” she said, looking back over her shoulder and wondering how she had gotten herself in this situation. “It isn’t.”


	8. Chapter 8

POV: Alina

Azriel hadn’t stayed much longer in Alina’s cottage once he noticed her struggling to keep her eyes open. He’d stepped through the front door and paused to take in the soft orange light of dawn, and perhaps due to her exhaustion Alina had unashamedly stared at how handsome he looked in the morning glow. He’d asked her then to join him and his friends for dinner after the next training session, and she was so eager to go back to sleep that she’d said yes without really thinking. He gave her one more long, sensual look – the kind that brought heat back to her cheeks once again – before he disappeared into mist and shadow. Alina collapsed on the couch and did not rise again until the sun was well into the early afternoon sky.

That whole next day had passed much, much too slowly. She’d tried desperately that night to not think of him, to not remember the feel of his lips caressing her neck or the hardness of his muscled body as he pressed against her. She’d even covered up the handprint on the counter just so she wouldn’t think about it. It didn’t work.

The next day finally rolled around, and Alina dressed in her favorite flying leathers: looser than her other sets due to years of wear, and so bleached by the sun that the brown had long ago faded into a beige that almost looked white. Against her pale skin and massive white wings, she looked like a goddess of winter, fearsome and angelic with hair like the fire in her veins. With her knives and her necklace that she never dared to leave behind, she flew to the training ring in Windhaven well before the start of the session this time. She made sure to circle overhead before landing as she always did when coming here; the last thing she wanted was a nosey Illyrian male trying to figure out which direction she lived in. She landed in the training arena where a few of the girls from last time were already waiting along with several new faces. Alina scanned the training ring, noting the stockpile of weapons on the opposite side and the considerably larger amount of onlookers already gathered to watch. She noted the sneers and obvious disdain several males sent her way as her gaze met theirs.

“Alina!” the younger female from last week called as she trotted over to where Alina stood. Alina ripped her eyes away from the males across the ring to find two sets of large doe-eyed, ogling eyes looking up at her. They stopped several paces away, and Alina realized with some guilt that they might be scared of her after seeing how she’d reacted last week.

“We weren’t sure if you were going to come back!” The same girl said excitedly. _What was her name again? It started with a V… Vienna._

Alina gave a soft smile that seemed to put them at ease. “I have to redeem myself after last week. It’s Vienna right?” The smile that broke out on Vienna’s face was radiant and infectious.

“Yes! And this is-“

“Jane,” they both said at once. Alina was thankful she’d had some wits about her that day. “I remember. It’s nice to meet you.” Alina gave her a short nod, hoping she was coming across as friendly.

“What was it like?” Jane blurted. “I mean, when you did the thing with the light. What does it feel like?”

Alina could see some of the other women starting to edge closer, probably also wanting to hear the answer.

“Well… “ Alina cleared her throat and began fidgeting with her braid. Speaking in front of a lot of people always made her uncomfortable, especially when she was speaking about herself.

“It’s kind of like… When you step into a warm pool and you slowly go deeper and deeper – you feel the heat gradually building around you, filling you. But then the bottom falls away suddenly and you plunge in, and the heat hits you all at once. It feels good. Like a burst of warmth and energy.” She paused to take in Jane and Vienna looking at each other like it was the coolest thing they’d ever heard. She was surrounded by the women now. There had to be at least thirty of them. Forty, maybe. Definitely more women than last week. More women than she’d ever seen gathered together in an Illyrian camp, actually.

“Sometimes you can control how fast the heat rises. Sometimes it hurtles at you like you’ve dived into the deep end. My emotions have a lot to do with that. Fear and anger are like fuel to the light.”

“Were you born with it?” One of the women from last week’s session asked. Alina looked at each of their faces, wondering whether she should say the truth or try to steer away the conversation. As she looked at each of them, she realized they weren’t judging her or assessing her strength or weaknesses. They were just ordinary people, fascinated by her abilities and – _excited_? None of the Illyrian females had ever been allowed to fight in battle or had ever had enough of that Illyrian killing power to be granted a siphon. These women were looking at her now like they had just started to believe maybe that could change. They looked at her with pride, like she was one of them and always had been. Alina realized she didn’t want to hide the truth of who she was anymore.

“No. I had to, um… Learn them. In a way similar to the shadowsinger.” There were a few quiet gasps at that.

“What was that about the shadowsinger?” a cocky male voice called from the other side of the ring. Heads whipped in their direction as three males sauntered over to where she stood. Cassian stopped to assess the gathered females with his arms crossed and that permanent smirk on his face. Azriel kept his unyielding stare focused on Alina, and she had to look away to keep the heat from flooding her cheeks again. She focused on the third male, with his inky black hair trimmed neatly and his onyx black flying leathers that seemed pristine and expertly tailored. Darkness seemed to radiate off of him in star-flecked tendrils, and his wings were folded neatly at his back with the large black talon on each pointed at the sky. He and the shadowsinger together must be the masters of death and darkness, she thought.

“You must be Alina.” He nodded to her and looked around at the other women with his strange, violet eyes that seemed to contain the night sky itself.

“And you must be the High Lord.” Alina nodded back. If Azriel had planned to bring him to this session, he sure hadn’t mentioned it at her house two days ago.

“Indeed. Please, call me Rhys. I’ve heard quite a lot about you. Though I will admit I thought Cassian had been exaggerating about your wings,” he purred.

“He does that about a lot of things,” Azriel joked, not a hint of emotion on his face. _Azriel knows how to make jokes?_

Cassian tipped his head back and howled. Rhys chuckled, one brow arched as he looked between Azriel and Alina. As if he was wondering the same.

“I’d love to stay and watch the session, but unfortunately I have some business to attend to here in Windhaven. Are you still planning to come to dinner?”

Alina began fidgeting with her braid, again aware of all the people around her.

“Um, I didn’t bring nice dinner clothes.”

“Not to worry. The High Lady has an armada of clothes to choose from. She’d be more than happy to lend you something.”

The High Lady? _The_ High Lady? They wanted me to wear one of her dresses? Alina wondered how many mattresses she could buy with just one of them. She looked between the three males, two watching her expectantly and one with a gaze so intense it was stripping her soul bare.

“Excellent. I’ll see you this evening. Cassian, behave while I’m gone, please.” Cassian gave Rhys a look that said he’d do no such thing.

“Enjoy training, ladies.” With a wink at Alina, he disappeared into thin air leaving nothing but a ghost breeze behind.

**~**

The training session was brutal. After two hours of practicing the kicks and jabs of last week as well as learning the basics of various Illyrian blades and weapons, Alina was covered head to toe in sweat and her arms felt like jelly. If she had to hear Cassian yell ‘protect your wings’ one more time, she thought she might actually hurl. This time she was paired up with several of the other women for the hand to hand combat, and they absolutely handed her her ass. That was her weakness, she supposed; after centuries of depending on her magic and her powers, she was essentially useless when it came to fighting with weapons. The daggers she kept slung on her hips everywhere she went had only been to deter unwelcome advances or encounters. Alina was embarrassed at first, but after being thrown to the ground for the third time by a rather large, middle aged brutish woman, she’d run out of the energy to care. Still, the whole time she could feel Azriel’s eyes lingering on her. At one point, he’d gotten so close to her that she could smell him – night-chilled mist and cedar and pine. She had been so distracted she didn’t even see it as the wooden sword sailed through the air and wacked her right in the forehead.

Once training was over, Cassian dismissed all the women and walked over to where Alina had been knocked over onto the ground and had just decided not to get up.

“Well that was rough.”

“That was miserable, that’s what that was.” Alina groaned and put her head in her hands. “My ass will be bruised for days.”

“Look on the bright side. You literally can’t get any worse.” Azriel walked over in time to watch Cassian dodge the wooden sword she’d thrown at his head. Alina could have sworn she saw the faintest hint of amusement in his face.

“She certainly has good aim,” he said to Cassian as he offered a hand to help her up. The cobalt siphon glowed bright as his wrist, and inside it a thick mist seemed to swirl and pulse. Alina took his hand and couldn’t hide her squeak has he hauled her up like she weighed nothing. Being so close to him again, feeling his touch… It was electric. She looked down to where there hands were still joined and slowly roamed her thumb over his jagged scars. She thrust all her focus into giving no indication or hint on her face of the sadness she felt whenever she saw them. She knew he didn’t want pity; if it was her, she’d feel the same.

“Ready to go?” He asked her in a voice smooth as silk. He was only standing a few inches away, and the space between them suddenly seemed much too small. She let go of his hand and looked back up to his tan face and hazel eyes that were trained on her. This close, he really towered over her.

“Where are we going?”

“Velaris,” Cassian grunted over Azriel’s shoulder as he put away the training weapons. “The City of Starlight.”

Alina didn’t even try to hide her joy and excitement as a dazzling grin broke out on her face. She could never, ever get enough of Velaris.

“You’ve been before?” Azriel asked, one brow raised.

“Once or twice. Can we fly?” Alina looked between Cassian and Azriel, who were both watching her now.

“It’s over a two hour flight. Azriel could winnow you there in two seconds.”

Alina snorted. “Two hours for _you_ , maybe.”

Cassian opened his mouth to give some snarky retort but was quickly cut off by Azriel. “I’ll fly with you. Cassian was going to go join Rhys and head back later.”

“I was? Oh. Yeah I was. Right.” Cassian began to walk off, muttering to himself about everyone being able to winnow but him.

“Alright. Hope you can keep up,” Alina responded playfully, still not able to keep the grin from her face. She could fly all day and night and never get tired of it. The look Azriel gave her in response put butterflies in her stomach. She enjoyed flirting with him, she realized. It felt easy.

Alina and Azriel both stretched their wings, readying for the flight ahead.

“You kids have fun,” Cassian taunted as he was heading towards the rest of the camp.

“Wipe that damn smirk off your face, Cassian.” Azriel growled back his response before taking off, three mighty wing flaps lifting him high in the sky. Alina followed suit, holding up a particular vulgar hand gesture as the ground grew farther and farther away. Soon she was back home in the sky, a beautiful angel of death amongst the soft rolling afternoon clouds. Where she was brightness and light and heat, he was shadow and cold. She wasn't sure if the world was ready for the two of them together, if it had known exactly what it was doing when it finally brought them face to face. Azriel fell into place next to her, and she took a deep breath as she prepared for the flight and the evening ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guyzzzzz get ready for next chapter because we're finally gonna learn more backstory on our girl.
> 
> I also wanted to say (in case anyone cares): If you're wondering about my inspiration for the main character, there is definitely some TOG inspiration, but it's actually mainly inspired by Avatar the Last Airbender. I grew up watching that show, and have always known from the very beginning deep in my soul that if I was a bender, it would unquestionably be fire. And so I have reflected that fire, both body and soul, in the main character Alina. 
> 
> (Speaking of ATLA, there is a sad lack of daddy zuko fanfics and I have half a mind to fix that...)
> 
> Thanks to everyone who's still reading and I'm excited for where this story is going!  
> -Lina


	9. Chapter 9

POV: Alina

Flying was always Alina’s favorite. It didn’t matter where or when; a few minutes of soaring and cutting through the clouds could shed away even the most stubborn of downcast moods. Adrift in the open expanse of stars and wind and golden sunbeams, her loneliness and grief felt small and insignificant. Loneliness, for in all the world there was no one else like her. Grief, for the loss of her parents and the life she could have had with them – a life full of love, and certainty, and understanding of who she was and where she came from. The grief never truly went away, and after 500 years of enduring it and welcoming it back into her head when her heart grew heavy, Alina knew it never would. But she also knew that she could find ways to live with it. In those silent midnight moments, when she’d fly far above the world and felt so close to the stars she thought she could reach out and touch them, she’d find peace knowing that even after the darkest nights, a new day was always coming.

Alina and Azriel flew in comfortable silence for a while, taking in the jagged, snowcapped mountains and the pines that spotted beneath. The weather was much milder today; still an early spring chill, but even from way up here, the wind had much less of a bite than usual. She let Azriel set their pace and enjoyed the surprising feeling of flying alongside someone else. Her focus was settled on the sprawling mountains below when Azriel spoke up.

“So you’ve been to Velaris before?”

“A couple times.” A small lie. “After the war ended and the city was opened up, I started visiting from time to time. The views on the flight over are nice and the shops sell lots of things you can’t find in the Illyrian mountains.” Another lie. She’d been sneaking into Velaris for centuries, long before the city was ever unveiled to the world. As much as she disliked the dishonesty, there was still too much about her that he didn’t know. May not even want to know. She swallowed her guilt.

“Any favorites?”

“A book shop or two. Some dress shops, though I hardly ever had enough money to spend on something like a dress. Or anywhere to wear one.”

Azriel looked her up and down brazenly, a smirk forming on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just trying to picture you in a dress.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t wear Illyrian flying leathers 24/7.”

“Oh I remember,” Azriel taunted. For a heartbeat, she was back on that countertop, with her shirt hiked up around her waist and his hand between her thighs. Despite the cold wind, warmth flooded her cheeks and down her neck. She looked to Azriel, trying her best to give him a glare that was intimidating. She must have failed miserably because his face lit up at her reaction, a soft laugh sounding that was carried away on the breeze.That was the same laugh she’d heard on the cobblestone streets of Velaris those months ago, when she’d accidentally almost wandered right up to him. The sound of it now was much more breathtaking than she remembered.

“How long have you lived in the Night Court?” Alina had known these questions would come. She’d prepared for them.

“A while.” The look he gave her suggested he wanted a better answer than that. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes and give in. “Almost two hundred years.”

A beat of silence. “And you’ve lived alone the whole time?”

“Are you asking me if I have a boyfriend?” That earned a soft chuckle. His only response was to keep watching her.

“Yes. Alone the whole time.”

“Do you have any family?”

“Not anymore.” She couldn’t hide the sadness from her eyes, her voice. She would have been embarrassed, had she not looked to Azriel and seen the understanding in his tan face. He stayed silent, letting her decide how much of her story she wanted to give. She knew that if she didn’t want to talk about it, he wouldn’t push it. A pattern she noticed from their encounter at her house – he wanted her to feel comfortable, to know she had control in the situation. For that, she was silently thankful.

“When I was little, my parents and I moved to Prythian from Hybern. Pretty soon after, they both died. I was alone, and in a strange place, and everywhere I went people gawked and stared at my wings. I was spurned and turned away for looking different. I found a small family in Summer Court that took me in, and I was so grateful for them and for having some place that could be home again. They had a daughter around my age, Denia. She was my best friend, my sister. She was my opposite in everything. I was so afraid of the world, and she lived to embrace it, to find adventure. Her magic was healing, and mine was fire – destruction and chaos. I was afraid of my magic and did everything I could to hide it and avoid using it. But she was so proud of her magic, and she searched high and low for creatures of all kinds to heal. She was loud and carefree and knew everyone and found goodness in everything. She had the deepest of brown skin, like chocolate and honey, and I was always so jealous of her and of how summery and sun-kissed and beautiful she was. She and I always picked on each other so much, and sometimes I just wanted to wring her neck so fucking bad. But at the end of the day, she and I were inseparable.” Alina laughed quietly to herself, remembering those blissful eternally summer days that were spent swimming, exploring the city streets, picking apples and strawberries, and taking naps under the golden sun.

“I lived with them for years, and I was happy. But then hard times fell. And they sold me to slavers to put food on their table. I was taken from my bed and pushed onto a boat sailing to Hybern. They threw magic-killing shackles on me, bound my wings, and shoved me into a cell in the dark. Back then I was so untrained, still so afraid of my magic and what could happen if I lost control, that I panicked. I let the fear eat me whole.”

“But all slavery was outlawed after the first war. After the Treaty.”

“It was. Or it was supposed to be. That didn’t stop these men. They took one look at my wings and saw me only for the value they thought my body would be worth. They intended to…” She drifted off, eyes glazing over. “You can piece together what they intended to do with me. I was only fourteen.” A small nod from Azriel, his face twisted in cold, deadly rage.

“Long story short, I escaped before that could happen. I … Regrouped. Trained. Stopped letting my fear of my magic control and consume me. I went back and I got my vengeance. I killed every last one of those men. I set fire to their whole fleet of ships, watched them burn until each and every one of them sunk below the water. And it felt good.”

Alina looked at Azriel, terrified of finding judgement and horror in his face, but only found approval and relief instead. She wondered if he’d push for the details of her story she’d left out. When she was met with only silence, she continued on.

“I made my way back to Prythian. A fire – a metaphorical one – had been lit in me, and I was hellbent on revenge. I came for the family that had betrayed me and sold me away.” This was a part of her story that she dreaded telling, one that was painful to remember.

“I spent so much time preparing for their deaths and thinking of how I’d kill them. But when I found them…” Her lip wobbled. She took a deep breath.

“When I found them, I took one look into their terrified eyes and I knew I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t become the same kind of monster as the men they’d sold me to. I couldn’t take Denia’s parents away, and leave her to the loneliness that I had gone through of not having anyone. So I begged her to leave and come with me, to go anywhere but stay in that house with her backstabbing parents. I had to get out of there and never look back, and I wanted her with me. She was my family, and their betrayal wasn’t her fault.”

Another deep breath.

“But… She didn’t come. I had made her choose, and she picked her parents, her actual family. Even after what they did to me. It broke my heart.” She looked away quickly, hoping he didn’t notice the burning in her eyes. Even after all this time, it still hurt. It always would.

A warm current of wind swept in, carrying them further upwards as the sun began to lower in the sky.

“So I left. And for years I travelled around Prythian alone, never staying too long anywhere, never letting myself get attached to anyone or any particular place. I never saw Denia again. I explored every court, always searching but not really knowing for what. I think I was hoping for answers about who my parents were and where they came from. Bits and pieces of memories are all I have left of them. I spent a lot of time in Day Court in the libraries, looking in texts for mention of people or cultures with wings like mine. I almost settled down in Dawn just for the sunrises alone. The view from up in the sky there as the sun just barely is rising over the horizon… incredible. Like nowhere else in the world.”

“What made you pick Night Court?”

“The night sky. The stars. The Illyrians.” Another partial lie. All true, but not the whole truth. There was a very specific reason she’d chosen Night as her home. A reason better left for a later conversation.

Azriel looked surprised at that last part. “Oh don’t get me wrong,” Alina continued. “I have no love for the barbaric, arrogant brutes. But in all of Prythian, there is no other people that has an appreciation for flying the way the Illyrians do. My wings and the freedom I feel up here, they’re everything. Illyrians get that. So when I found them, I just felt like I was home. So that’s what I did – I made my home here. Just me and some plants in my little house out in the mountains. And I was perfectly content minding my own business until you and your friends hounded me into coming to female training-”

“ _Cassian_ hounded you. We’ve been trying for a long time to get them to start training females in the war camps. But they’re stubborn, and – well you know how they are.” Azriel’s smirk grew. “I bet he would have hunted you down if you hadn’t come to that first session.”

“I almost didn’t come. It was a very last minute decision,” Alina said the words slowly, wondering how he’d read into them.

“Oh so that’s why you showed up late? You were so loud flapping through the trees I thought we were being attacked by a swarm of geese.”

“Ha!” She paused, choosing her next words very carefully. “You heard me approach that day, Azriel, because I let you.”

She supposed that was why she had spent so many centuries traveling the faery realms of the world undetected – she could fly faster than the speed of sound if she wanted, and thanks to her feathered wings, the likes of which existed nowhere else in all of Prythian, she could be silent as death. In a world where the High Fae were the top of the food chain, the masters of magic and power, why would they ever need to look up?

He studied her then with those piercing hazel eyes, noticing for the first time that every flap of her wings were indeed truly silent. He was right next to her and could hear nothing. With some color in his cheeks, he asked, “Because of the feathers?”

She knew what he meant. “Yes. I can fly and dive and turn essentially without a sound because of them. I can also fly much, much faster than you.”

A huff. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Just take my word for it then. Besides, it’s obvious. My wings are twice as big as yours,” she threw back at him playfully.

His dark brows rose at that, and he gently bumped the tip of his wing into hers. The sensation on her feathers sent shivers down her spine. In a flash of light, she disappeared into thin air. Seconds later she reappeared on his other side, bumping into his wing with her own.

“Careful, Lina,” he growled with a deep voice that put butterflies in her stomach. Shadows began to swirl around his hands and wingtips, like they wanted to escape and his grasp on them was starting to slip. The scars on both were light in contrast to the powerful, sensual darkness that was radiating from him now. “Or I’ll winnow you to my apartment and examine every inch of those wings myself. Dinner be damned.” Oh. _Oh_. She couldn’t hide her gasp, didn’t _think_ to hide it. She tried to find a witty retort, anything, but her mind gripped the memory of him standing over her in her kitchen, limbs entwined. He must have realized it, too, because his demeanor turned nothing short of smug.

_Illyrian bastard._ Alina rolled her eyes, and was about to tell him precisely what he could do with his wings when the mountains gave way to the sprawling, glittering city of Velaris below. The setting sun was reflecting off the Sidra and casting the city streets in a warm orange glow. She would never get used to this view.

“Welcome back,” was all Azriel said, as they flew over the City, over all the sounds of laughter and the twinkling lights and the drifts of music.

“By the way,” he added as the High Lord and Lady’s estate came into view, “I’m glad you came.” Silence. Alina looked over to him and was met with a full-blown, devilish smirk lighting up his annoyingly handsome face. “To training, I mean.”

“Pig.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE SEXUAL TENSIONBCVDBDFUDPJ


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I said I'd update once a week. But I am just way too excited with where this fic is going and I haven't been able to stop myself from writing it. Mild trigger warning - VERY brief mention of past torture/trauma at the end of the chapter.

POV: Alina

Alina and Azriel landed with two quiet thuds in the garden outside the High Lord’s estate. Rhys, now dressed head to toe in a black suit, and a beautiful fae woman Alina assumed to be his wife and High Lady, Feyre, stood near the front entrance and started to make their way down the steps. She looked like a vision in a dazzling blue dress that hugged her feminine figure and bounced off the evening light. Rhys seemed pleased to see them, and Feyre was outright beaming.

“You must be Alina!” She walked right up to where Alina was standing and threw her arms around her in a bear hug. Not at all the greeting she was expecting from a High Lady. Rhys must have seen the surprise on her face because he just shrugged his shoulders and gave her a lazy smile.

“It’s an honor to meet you, High Lady,” Alina said with a nod. “Oh please! Call me Feyre. No need for such formality around here,” Feyre said, waving her hand as she looked over to Azriel and back to Alina. “You guys are here at the perfect time. Dinner will be ready soon. Rhys told me you’d need a change of clothes so I picked out a few dresses for you to try on. Shall we?”

“Oh, sure.” She looked to Azriel, who nodded back as if to say go, it’s safe.

She followed Feyre into the house and was greeted with a little boy running around the foyer with a toy boat. He had thick, black hair and bright blue eyes, and he flapped his wings as he ran around the room. Feyre noticed Alina’s attention on him, and when he didn’t notice her at first, she said, “He just turned five. He’s starting to learn how to build strength in his wings to fly. Flapping them noisily is his new favorite pastime.”

He noticed them then and stopped his running around to look up at Alina. That was when it hit her – he was the little boy she had seen in Velaris, the one that had gawked at her wings and asked how his could look like hers. He ran up to her, eyes narrowing at her suspiciously.

“I remember you! I ate broccoli but my wings still don’t look like yours!” His little face scrunched up in anger. It was possibly the cutest thing she’d ever seen and she put in real effort to hide her amusement.

Feyre turned to look at her, eyebrows raised in question. “You’ve met my son?”

Alina smiled. “Once, on the street in Velaris.” She kneeled down until she was level with him. “I had to eat broccoli for ten years before I started growing feathers.”

He threw his little hands up in exasperation. “What! That’s too long!” Alina laughed at his fiery spirit. “I hear you’re starting to learn how to fly.”

His face lit up with pure joy. “Mom and Dad said I could be flying on my own in a few months!”

“Wow, that’s cool. I never flew by myself until I was seven years old.” A lie, but what did the kid know. His eyes filled with wonder and he turned to Feyre. “Did you hear that mommy? Did you hear it? She didn’t even fly til she was seven!”

Feyre smiled down at him and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah I heard. That’s super cool, buddy. We’re going to go upstairs and do boring adult stuff now. If you need anything call Nuala or Cerridwen, okay?”

“Otay!” With a wing flap and “ _whoosh!”_ and a wave of his mighty toy vessel, he was off.

They started to make their way up the stairs, and Feyre linked her arm with Alina’s. “I see you’re good with kids.”

“Haha. I guess. I think they’re funny, in an endearing way. How their personality comes out and how passionate about everything they are. I don’t see kids often.”

“Well he certainly likes you.” Feyre pulled her into a large guest suite and pointed her towards a rack of dresses waiting by the bed. “Choose any dress you like. Just give me a shout if you need any assistance. The bathroom is right over there in case you want to freshen up. Dinner is in 20.”

“Thank you, High La- sorry. Feyre.” Feyre gave her a warm smile before leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Alina changed out of her leathers and cleaned off the dirt scuffs on her hands and face from training earlier. She went to the dress rack and was quickly amazed at the gorgeous dresses Feyre had left for her – they were all made of the finest silks and chiffons, with gems and rhinestones throughout and a variety of night court colors: blues, pinks, purples, and blacks. Alina was further amazed to find that each and every dress was made specifically for someone with wings, containing clasps in the back. _These dresses must cost a fortune._

She selected a dress of pure black, with a plunging neckline that accentuated the curve of her breasts. The dress had long, sheer sleeves that billowed and collected at the wrists, and the long skirt had a slit that showed just enough skin to be considered slightly more sensual but still elegant. This was the most beautiful gown she’d ever laid eyes on, and as she looked in the mirror with it on, she had to admit it looked fantastic on her. She debated slinging one of her daggers back on under her dress but ultimately decided that wouldn’t be necessary here. Alina took her braid out, cringing in the mirror at the tangled mess it had become during the flight. Ultimately deciding not to attempt anything fancy with it, she brushed it out and used a pretty black hair clip that had been provided to pin some of it away from her face. She looked again at the mirror and decided that was basically as good as it was going to get.

Alina made her way back down the stairs and into the dining room, where several people had now gathered, including Azriel. His shadows had been swirling behind him like usual, but the second he noticed her, his every muscle and billow of shadow froze. The others seemed to notice her a heartbeat later and take her in as well, Feyre beaming at her.

“Alina you look amazing. Have you met Mor and Amren?”

Alina shook her head no and turned to face the other two ladies. Mor got up from her spot at the table and immediately, with no surprise this time, wrapped Alina in a hug. “I’m Morrigan. It’s so nice to meet you!” Mor’s smile was huge and genuine as she led Alina over to the table. “Sit here next to me.” Unknown to Mor, Alina had actually seen her several times before, mostly during her secret trips to Velaris. She wore a bright red dress that had a low back and hung free and flowy towards the bottom. Alina never registered how stunningly beautiful the blonde was until she was standing right next to her.

Alina took her seat and looked over to the other female, Amren. She nodded from her seat on the other side of Mor, and said in a voice that sounded both youthful and ancient, “I’ve been around a long time, girl, and I have never seen wings like those.” Amren’s silver eyes dug into Alina, and for a moment she didn’t know what to say. Luckily Cassian chimed in to save her.

“That’s the warmest hello you’re going to get from her, unfortunately,” Cassian drawled from his spot at the table across from Mor, as Azriel took his spot at the other end of the table, leaving the seat directly across from Alina and the head of the table closest to her for Rhys and Feyre. Everyone took their seats, and with a snap of Rhysand’s fingers, plates upon plates of heaping food appeared at the table. They all began digging in, making idle chat about how their day had gone. Alina noticed as a goblet of a dark fluid was set down in front of Amren, and Mor and Cassian were bickering over who got the last dinner rolls. She tried not to focus too long on what was in that cup.

“So Azriel tells me you have fire magic. Are you from Autumn?” Rhys asked lightheartedly. But Alina knew this question was anything but lighthearted – he would attempt to find out as much as he could about her. He didn’t know her, and she reminded herself that she was in his home. If their positions were switched, she’d do the same. Regardless, the second he spoke up, all conversation died, and the tug of war over the roll basket that Cassian and Mor had been in the middle of froze.

“No. I spent some time in Autumn, though. Their sneering, conniving court wasn’t for me.”

“Hmm.” Rhys scratched his chin, considering this. “With your red hair, I had assumed. But the wings never added up anyway.” A quick nod from Alina.

“Are you from Prythian?”

She gulped. “No. I-“

“For Cauldron’s sake, Rhys. At least give her a chance to eat before the interrogation,” Mor complained, sending a sympathetic glance Alina’s way. Cassian took the opportunity to snatch the roll out of the basket and plucked it straight into his mouth before Mor could protest. The resulting glare she shot him was nothing less than terrifying.

“I was born in Hybern. But as for my parents, my mother… Where she came from, what she was, those are things I’ve been trying for centuries to figure out.” She had everyone’s attention now. Feyre and Mor exchanged a look, and a heartbeat later Mor was up out of her chair, grabbing more wine for the table.

“My father was fae. Lived in the faery realm in Hybern, and from what I have researched lived on an estate and had human slaves before the war. But my mother,” Alina paused as Mor graciously filled her wine glass. Azriel was watching her intently, using his fork to move peas around on his plate. Amren was looking at her goblet like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. And Feyre and Rhys were patiently waiting, exchanging occasional glances at each other, eager to hear her story.

“My mother was beautiful. The most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and she had wings like mine. Bigger, grander, pure white top to bottom. She, I believe, was not human, or fae, or any in-between. She was something Other.” That certainly grabbed Amren’s attention. The house became so deadly silent that they could hear Feyre and Rhysand’s son’s laughter as he played outside.

She continued on. “ When I was little before my parents joined in the war, my mother used to tell me bedtime stories; sometimes she’d sing me to sleep. They were stories and songs of other worlds, other realms, of gods and god-like creatures. Sometimes they were in a different language, one that I have searched the libraries up and down Prythian and Hybern for but haven’t been able to find.” The color had drained completely from Amren’s face. No one around the table moved a muscle.

Alina nervously played with her hair. “There are legends of old gods, ones that existed long before Prythian or any High Lords or kings or queens. Long before any Cauldron. The gods were the very fabric of the world itself; they were the mountains, and the sea, and the land, and day and night. But according to those legends, over time those gods were forgotten and fell into myth when the High Fae came long. Some texts claim the High Fae took the gods’ magic from them. Others say the gods gifted it to the fae, knowing that their reign on the world had ended and the time of fae had come. And others, still, say that their power and magic was of a different sort and source entirely from that of the fae. I’ve heard stories of gods like those fighting in this war, with you.” She looked directly at Rhys. “The Bone Carver. The Weaver. Are those stories true?”

After a moment of hesitation, Rhys only nodded, face pale as a ghost. He exchanged a look with Feyre.

“My mother used to always sing one song in particular. Long ago, there were sprawling mountains that covered the land from north to south, making it beautiful but harsh and difficult to inhabit. These mountains were violent and deadly, and mixed in were giant volcanos that erupted constantly. But one day, the mountains and volcanos traveled too far east and met the sea. The mountains were so entranced and captivated by the sea’s beauty, by its coolness and simplicity, that they bowed down. The volcanos cooled and hardened over, and they vowed to never again terrorize and threaten the life of this world. ‘Oh, how the mountains loved that sea,’ she’d sing. They gave up their reign of death, their grip of power over life itself for the love they’d found. That’s the story she sang to me whenever I asked her how she met my father.”

She paused, giving everyone a chance to process. She’d half expected them to laugh in her face or call her crazy. She was honestly surprised no one did.

“My parents lived in Hybern for thousands and thousands of years. How many exactly, I’ll never know. But they loved that place, that land. And they loved each other. And when the war came 500 years ago, they fought in it, on the wrong side. They fought for Hybern.”

Rhys pushed his plate away. He’d lost all of his appetite.

“They sailed from Hybern to the warfront here on this continent and brought me with them. They made promises of a better future, a better world once the evil lords of Prythian had been put in their place. I was too young to really understand any of it. All I cared about was my family.”

“But then they died,” she whispered. “ I went to the battlefield on that last, terrible day of the war. I went to look for them, hoping and praying I wouldn’t find their bodies among all the others. I was only eight.” Azriel had been looking down at the food he moved around on his plate, but suddenly his eyes snapped up to her. Shock lingered on his face for a heartbeat before it was replaced with that cool façade.

“I lost the only family I’d ever known that day. And found myself alone in a land my parents had only described to me in bedtime stories. I had to learn for myself how to use and control my magic. I had to learn the hard way that my parents fought for the wrong side because they were doing what they thought was right. And the majority of my life ever since has been spent here in Prythian, traveling and roaming the different courts, until I settled down in Night almost two hundred years ago. My life has been rather boring and secluded since then.”

“I knew it.” Amren chimed in, not an ounce of fear or judgment in her voice. “I knew you weren’t fae. Or Illyrian. Rhys, pay up.”

“What! She said she’s _half_ fae. You were wrong.”

“Technically she was only half wrong. So you should pay her half,” Mor piped in, earning a look of disapproval from Amren and Rhys both. Alina made eye contact with Feyre, who smiled softly and rolled her eyes as if to say this sort of thing was a normal occurrence. Azriel remained silent, his shadows swirling and eddying around his hands and wingtips.

“Well.” Alina finally said in an attempt to lighten up the room. “I for one could use more wine.”

“That’s my girl,” Mor chimed, already reaching for a brand new bottle.

~

The rest of the conversation that night was considerably lighter and more comfortable. The group had slowly drifted from the dining room to the grand sitting room, filled with couches and blankets and a giant hearth that cast the room in a warm evening glow. From the large floor-to-ceiling window, a view of the Sidra all the way out to the sea beyond could be seen. Alina was pleasantly surprised at the casual, familiar dynamic of the group, and at how much of a home this place seemed. All of the rooms of the estate that she’d seen were thoughtfully and tastefully decorated; it was luxury that also felt lived in. Not the grand, over-the-top palace she was expecting. Amren had left shortly after dinner, and Cassian and Azriel were deep in conversation with Rhys about some Illyrian war camp business that Alina didn’t care for. She settled on a couch with Feyre and Mor, glasses of wine in their hands and lazy, contented smiles on their faces.

“So Alina, Azriel says you’ve only been to see Velaris a few times before?” Mor asked.

“Yeah, only a couple of times. I just visited shops mostly.” If Azriel was listening, he gave no indication. He seemed to still be deep in conversation with the other guys.

“Have you ever been in Velaris for Starfall?”

“No actually. Never thought of it.”

“Well you have to stay here until then. The view from the city is unbeatable. Loads better than the view from those ugly Illyrian Mountains.” Mor scrunched her nose up in disgust at the mention of them.

Excitement lit up Feyre’s face. “Oh my gods yes! You must stay. It’s only two days from now. It really is magical.”

“Hmm. Well I’d have to figure out where to stay. And I don’t have anything to wear –“

“You can stay here of course. You’re always welcome here. That guest suite you changed in is yours.”

“Oh that’s really nice of you but I couldn’t do that-”

“Nonsense. I insist.” Feyre paused, eyes flicking over briefly to where Rhys sat. “Only if you want to.”

Alina considered. She realized she didn’t have any real reason to say no – there was nothing necessarily sending her back to sit in her house alone. She also realized she really _did_ want to. She was being given a chance to know the shadowsinger and his friends better, and she wanted to take it. So she smiled and said, “Okay. Sure.”

Feyre and Mor gave triumphant smiles to each other. Alina looked to where Azriel sat and could have sworn she saw the tension in his shoulders relax a little.

“Tomorrow,” Mor said, “We’re going dress shopping.”

“And then I’ll give you a proper tour of Velaris. You can’t go one more day without exploring the Rainbow,” Feyre added.

Cassian piped up from his seat across the room. “After she finishes our training lesson, ladies.”

Alina whirled to face him. “My _what_?”

Cassian took a sip of his drink and smirked. “You can parade and dance around Velaris all you want after you and I have a training session. After what we saw today, Red, you need some serious help.” Alina didn’t know what made her angrier, his arrogance or the nickname he’d just given her. Redness flooded her cheeks, her own body betraying her.

Cassian watched as the anger grew in her face, the emotion dripping from her expression. After a moment or two, he leaned his head back and howled; between barks of laughter, he forced out a breathless “Alina you should really see your face right now.”

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was that she was enjoying the company of the people she was around, but Alina found herself unable to hold back a giggle. Soon, everyone was joining in with her, even Azriel, and the sound of everyone’s laughter together filled her with so much happiness that she laughed and laughed until her sides hurt. Tomorrow, she could put her walls back up and hide behind them again if she wished. But tonight, she was content to just be herself and have fun.

~

The hours dragged on long into the night as she sat in the sitting room with Feyre and Mor, talking about everything and nothing, until she finally dragged herself up the stairs back to the guest suite. The three Illyrians had gone to bed long ago with no shortage of “wimp” and “sissy” taunts from the other two ladies. Even after the males had disappeared up the stairs and filed into their bedrooms, the three of them had still sat on that couch and giggled at each other like drunken fools.

She was about to enter the guest suite when she felt a pull in her chest to continue down the hall to the closed door at the end. As she approached, she noticed the shadows that were cascading out the crack at the bottom of the door. Tentatively she knocked, and when she heard nothing, she entered and closed the door behind her. What she saw when she turned around made her halt where she stood. Azriel sat in a lounge chair facing the bedroom door, scarred wings splayed over the chair’s edge and wearing nothing but a tight pair of gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips. His cold stare was locked on her, watching her every move, watching as her eyes roamed the expanse of his exposed, muscular chest. She noted the whirls of dark tattoos that were splayed on his torso and disappeared down his side. The doors to his balcony behind him had been thrown open to allow in a fresh breeze, the stars and moon overlooking the Sidra casting his room in soft blue light.

“Come here,” he growled to her.

Breathless, heart hammering away in her chest, she walked over to him and climbed onto his lap, straddling him. His hands immediately snaked around her waist, his shadows curling around her now. It took him a long time to look up to her eyes, as if some thought was tumbling around in his mind and he was trying to decide on if he should voice it.

“Out with it,” she finally said.

“It was you.” She waited for him to continue. Finally, he did. “It was you, five hundred years ago. I saw you on the battlefield when you were eight. You were there and then in the blink of an eye, you were gone. I thought I had seen a ghost. I never pieced it together until tonight.”

Alina didn’t know what to say. She remembered him well enough, despite being so long ago, but was never certain if he’d truly seen her that day or not. So she only responded with a breathless “yes.”

“And you’ve known all this time that it was me you saw.” Not a question.

“Yes.”

His thumbs began moving in small circles on her stomach, slowly moving upwards towards her breasts. She bit her lip to hold in her whimper.

“And you didn’t tell me.”

“Are you angry?”

His thumbs paused. His wandering eyes snapped back up to hers as he said, “No, I’m not angry. But I wish you’d told me. All this time you’ve seemed familiar and I’ve been scratching my head about why.” His thumbs resumed their movement, and her core turned molten when one gently grazed the soft underside of her breast.

“But still,” he continued. “You kept that from me. So now I have to punish you.”

She gasped. “Punish?”

His other thumb moved to mirror his first, grazing beneath both of her breasts in tantalizingly slow motions. Instinctually she arched into his touch, and immediately cursed her body for betraying her yet again. He responded with a ‘hmm’ and moved a thumb upwards so that it was tracing her hardened nipple over her dress. “What are you going to do?”

“Oh there are many things I want to do to you. But I can’t do them in a house full of other people.” His eyes darkened, and the way he looked at her then was electrifying. She could see the lust and longing behind his eyes, burning with a cold strength she’d never seen before. He leaned into her, running his tongue up her collar bone, kissing her neck that same way he’d done it several nights ago. He pulled back to look at her again when she placed her hands on his bare chest. “The first time I fuck you, Alina, I will hear every noise. Every scream. And I won’t be quick about it, either.”

_Gods._ The rumble of his deep voice, the sensual words, the craving and emotion on his face… It was all too much. It snapped the tether she held on her restraint. In a flash her lips were on his, his tongue immediately fighting its way into her mouth and claiming her. If their kiss in her house had been a bright flame, this one was a roaring fire of wanting and lust and desire. She gripped his chest, his arms, his shoulders – wanting, _needing_ , more of him. Not fast enough, he reached around her back to unclip the top of her dress from around her wings. He pulled it down enough until her whole torso was bare before him, and the hungry look on his face from seeing her top half naked sent a shot of pleasure directly between her thighs. He lowered his head to one of her breasts and twirled his tongue over her nipple. Alina leaned into him, moving her hips against his on instinct, and he shifted so that she’d feel his full, hard length against her. He sucked her whole nipple into his mouth and released it with a wet pop.

“I’ve been wondering what color these were,” he growled as he moved his mouth to the other, swirling his tongue around it as he’d done to the first. “What they tasted like.”

Alina moaned unapologetically now. She was on fire, she was molten ore, she –

He ripped her hand away from where she’d unconsciously rested it on the chair. Smoke tendrils drifted up from where her fingers had just laid, but the chair was otherwise unscathed. “Careful, love. Don’t want to burn the High Lord’s furniture.”

Oh blessed Mother above, this man.

He grabbed both of her hands and held them behind her back, beneath her wings. “Keep these here. Punishment, remember?” He resumed the work of his tongue on her nipples, the thrusting of his hips against hers. She moaned in protest but did what he said as he moved one hand around her throat, over her necklace, and the other down to cup her ass over her dress. Not just to cup it, but to push her harder against him. She could feel every delicious inch and it killed her.

With a sudden crack of sound, he spanked her ass. Hard. She had never let a man do this to her before. With anyone else she may have felt degraded. But with him… the pain and pleasure wove together, spearing through her and making her pussy literally throb.

“Tonight you only get to come when I tell you to. Understand?” His words were like a hot brand down her throat. Even without his hand on her neck, she didn’t think she would have been able to respond.

“I said,” he growled. _Crack._ “Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes,” she gasped, completely out of breath. The ache between her legs was growing, and she tried desperately for more friction against him.

_Crack._ She moaned again, this time feeling all the pleasure and none the pain. His hand moved back down to her soft breast, squeezing and teasing. His thrusting picked up in speed, the friction against her clit growing.

_Crack._ She whimpered again. Her climax was building quickly, and she didn’t know if she could hold it back.

“Az,” she groaned, urgency dripping in her voice. “I need –“ _Crack._ Her muscles began tensing up with the effort of holding it back.

“Come for me, love,” he whispered in her ear like sweet salvation. Her orgasm ripped through her as he rubbed her sore ass cheek. He continued his rhythmic thrusts until finally she came down from her high. He gave her time to catch her breath before he helped her pull her dress back up and clasp it behind her.

“Az,” she protested, “that’s twice now that we, that I haven’t –“ He hushed her with a scarred thumb laid gently over her lips. He lifted her up off his lap, making sure her legs were steady beneath her, before he gave his reply. “You can return the favor later when we have more privacy.” _When_ , he said. Such blunt honesty and confidence. Again, with another male she may have scoffed at the arrogance, but with him, she knew that’s not how he meant it. Two times now, he had put her needs first, had considered _only_ her needs. Did he ever let anyone take care of him?

Hi laced his hand with hers and brought her out onto the balcony to enjoy the fresh air and the sparkling view of the moonlit Sidra. He leaned his other arm on the balcony edge, wings folded in tight and back muscles rippling. Her eyes flitted down to where his fingers interlaced with hers. He must have seen her eyes linger on his scars, because he quickly dropped her hand and turned away from her. To hide them, she realized. She’d never noticed he was so ashamed by them. The thought alone broke her.

“Azriel.” She spoke barely above a whisper. He turned back to face her. “I don’t know the story behind these,” she said, reaching for his hands. She thought he might pull them away again, but he let her hold them. “But I know what it’s like. To have to fight, to do what you have to to survive. I have scars, too.” Still holding his hands in one of her own, she turned so that he could have a view of her back. With her other hand, now shaking, she slid the shoulder of her dress down and undid the clasps until it revealed the gnarled, torn flesh around the base of both of her wings. Alina felt his gasp of surprise, heard his heart rate spike as he beheld the deep scars she’d never shown anyone.

After she was sure he got an eyeful, she slid her dress back up her shoulder and redid the clasps around her wings. “When I escaped those slavers, I was captured by someone else. When they couldn’t control me, they decided to torture me instead. It was one of their torture devices, and how they kept me from trying to escape by flying. They tied on spiked magical chains that dug into my muscles, and any time I tried to use my wings they’d tighten. The pain,” she went to a whisper again, her lip trembling. _Deep breath._ “The pain was like nothing I have ever felt. It was blinding. The first time they put them on me, I panicked so bad that the chains almost cut my wings off.” Alina stared off at the Sidra, remembering the terror she’d felt. “I almost lost my wings,” she whispered again, “and it would have been my fault.”

“No,” he growled and pulled one of his hands away to gently turn her chin towards him. With his callused, scarred thumb, he wiped away the tear that slid down her cheek. “What they did to you was not your fault. How you reacted to their – violation,” he practically spat out the word, dripping with venom and freezing rage. “That was not your fault.”

Alina closed her eyes for a few heartbeats, enjoying his gentle touch on her face. When she opened her eyes, his were still trained on her, and the anger that had pooled in them before had started to wash away like the ebb of the tide. For a moment they just stood there, listening to the waves in the distance and feeling the sea breeze, like winged silhouettes in the moonlight.

Again, she grabbed his hands. “And these,” she said as she slowly brought them up to her lips, dusting them with the softest ghost of a kiss. “Are not your fault, either. Not all scars are on the outside. But we must live with them all the same.”

He brought his forehead down until it was touching hers and closed his eyes. His silent way of thanking her for her kindness, her understanding.

“So you don’t have to be ashamed of them. Not with me.” She backed away from him and walked towards the door to make her way back to her room. She paused and looked back at him, at his shadows that still danced and swirled on the balcony. “Goodnight, Az,” she called to him, knowing that right now he needed to be alone. He was pure shadow now, two glowing hazel eyes in a pool of inky darkness. She heard his faint “Goodnight, Lina,” before she closed the door and went to her room to sleep, deep and dreamless, beneath the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something I hope readers take away from this fic, aside from a slight obsession with daddy Az, is an appreciation for growth and personal healing following trauma. The canon character of Azriel from the books has significant trauma, which is something I strongly connected with when I read them. So I hope you guys enjoy reading as Az and Alina begin to grow and heal together. If you’re reading this and can relate to them or their story, always remember that there is no set amount of time for healing. Everyone is different, and the fact that you are still here, and taking things a day at a time, and the fact that you can still feel and live and love, is something you should be damn proud of. 
> 
> And if you DON’T have any kind of trauma that relates to our main characters, but you still enjoy good ol’ character development, then this is still for you. And not to worry, I of course will be including more steamy smut.
> 
> Thanks everyone,  
> Lina
> 
> P.S. I would literally DIE if someone made some cool fanart for this fic. Just saying.


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